


Plus-Two

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She should have known the Winchesters were a package deal. She wasn't aiming to bring two dates to the Singer-Harvelle wedding, but that's what she got and somehow she was okay with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus-Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downjune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downjune/gifts).



> This takes place at an indistinct point in time, set within the alternate "My Heart Will Go On" universe.

It was a nice day. Warm, but not sticky. The sun shown down from the cloudless sky and light bounced off the stacks of cars around them.

Dean was ducked over the hood of his Mustang. He muttered about the ‘damn alternator’, entirely absorbed in the task, while she sat a few yards away. Legs crossed and hands splayed against the chipping paint of an old, busted Nova, she watched him work. Admired the broad stretch of his shoulders and the curve of his ass. Her lip was caught between her teeth and a familiar heat curled in her abdomen. He and Sam had rolled in the night before. She wasn't sure how long they'd stay, but part of her hoped he'd be up for a quick romp before they took off. God, had she really just used the word romp? Whatever. She’d like to fuck him today, end of story. Wouldn’t be the first time, definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey.” The word broke her concentration. She looked up and saw him staring at her. 

“What?” She lifted her brow and he smiled a little.

“Zoning out, Harvelle? I asked how the wedding plans are coming.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Tedious. Bobby wants something quick at the courthouse; Mom wants it here at the house. Only thing I know for sure is that there’s a bar rented out for the reception, and that means booze.”

“Bingo,” Dean snapped his finger in her direction. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Precisely,” She agreed.

She leaned back. Got a little more comfortable and began to watch him again as they lapsed into comfortable silence. He reached for a wrench and before she could stop herself, the question rolled off her tongue. “Hey,” She said. “Maybe we could go together. To the wedding, I mean.”

“Like a date?” He snorted. “Don’t got much time for dating, honey.”

“No. I mean—well.” Her cheeks began to burn. It had been a stupid idea. Off the cuff and only half formed. She didn’t even want to date him—didn’t want to date anybody, for that matter. But there was something appealing about it. The wedding, and the wedding planning, it was all so _normal_. Hearing her mom talk about headcounts and flowers? It was strange, but made her want to make the most of it. Made her want to wear the dress they’d picked out and do her hair and hell, even find a date for the thing. But that had obviously blown up in her face so her eyes trailed to the ground and she grumbled a short, “I don’t know.”

Behind them, the front door to the house swung open and Sam walked outside. His right hand wrapped the necks of two beers and the bottles clinked against one another as he moved. Dean glanced back at him. He smiled a little and raised his voice when he said, “Already got a date, anyway. Sammy’s picked out a nice shirt to match my tie and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a corsage…”

Sam’s brow knit as he came to a stop at Dean’s side. “Am I taking you to prom?” He asked and Dean slipped one of the beers from his grip. He popped the cap and took a long sip.

“Bobby and Ellen’s wedding,” He said as he pulled the bottle back from his mouth.

“Oh. Funny,” Sam deadpanned. He flipped Dean off as he walked to the side. Leaned against the passenger’s door and looked back in her direction. “I thought this thing was going to be casual,” He said. “That still the case?”

“Oh, yeah. It is.” She paused. “I just figured we were both going to the wedding so… I mean, I don't need to go with just Dean. We could all go. Together. As a group.” She wasn’t sure where she was headed with this. They probably would have hung out together either way, and when she looked up she realized both were grinning at her. They sipped their beers casually and exchanged a look that she couldn’t read. Smiled a little at each other and were probably enjoying watching her squirm. "God," She huffed. “You two are dicks.” And their smiles only grew. “I just want to have a good time," She admitted. "I want one night that isn’t ghosts or ghouls and I want to dance and maybe even get laid.”

Their eyebrows rose in unison and they exchanged another look. It was Dean who spoke after a moment.

“Y’know what, Jo.” He gestured toward her with his beer and said, “You want a date, you got it. Put us down as your plus-two.”

Which… wasn’t exactly what she had been going for, but it worked all the same. “Great,” She said with a smile.

And that was that.

 

::

 

A little over a month later, the wedding arrived.

In the end Ellen had gotten her way. They’d fixed up the study and held the ceremony there. It went off without a hitch. Beautiful day and not an ounce of trouble. That was probably thanks to high security in form of extra wards and sigils. "Bringing all of us to one place is asking for trouble, and I ain't having my wedding ruined by a demon carrying a grudge," Her mom had said.

While only a handful of guests attended the ceremony, the reception was another story. The invitation was open to anybody who happened to be in the area and the bar filled up quickly. Jo hadn’t seen this many hunters in the same space since the Roadhouse. The familiarity of the scene pulled at her heart a little.

She took a sip of her beer, careful not to spill on her dress. It was a simple sleeveless number, with a v-neck and cinched waist. Lavender in color, to match the freesia’s her mom had carried down the aisle, and she felt _pretty_. Not that she didn’t normally feel pretty, but this was a little different. Most of her time was spent hiking through swamps or digging up graves. She hadn’t gone to prom. Hadn’t done any of those things typical girls got dolled up for in high school, and if she dressed up it was for a hunt. To lure someone in or gain information. But tonight there was no motive in mind. She just wanted to look nice. Wanted to celebrate her mom’s wedding and have a good time. 

Dean sat across from her. He wore one of his fake FBI suits. The jacket didn’t fit him quite right in the shoulders and the pants were a little long, but he looked good. Tapped his toe beneath the table in time with the music and, for once, seemed relaxed. Almost happy.

She glanced toward the dance floor. “You gonna ask me to dance?” She asked. Looked back to Dean and saw him wrinkle his nose.

“Thought you got your dancing fix with Sam,” He said.

Which was true. Sam had taken her out on the dance floor. Spun her around a few times and made her laugh with anecdotes about the times he’d had to dance on hunts. She'd chuckled as he told her about the haunted ballet studio, where he'd briefly posed as a student. "It was terrible," He'd said. "Absolutely terrible and I just know Dean has pictures or video for blackmail purposes." If he did, she'd like to see them. But that was neither here nor there. 

Now, Sam was occupied on the other side of the room. Nodding his head while some man talked his ear off. She wouldn’t mind going another round with him, but a girl had to make use of both her dates.

“Sam’s a great dancer, I’ll give him that. But he’s also twice my size.” She paused and looked at Dean. “I’d like somebody a little more at my level.” Her tongue poked out from beneath her teeth, teasing, and he rolled his eyes.

“Gonna lure me onto the dance floor with short jokes?”

“You know it.”

“Thought you wanted to get lucky tonight.”

“Please, your ego rivals Kanye’s.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly and smiled at him. “Think I can deal a couple blows without it hurting my chances.”

“Cocky," Dean said, nodding his head. “I like it.” He finished his whiskey. Smacked his lips and then stood up from the table. Stretching his hand in her direction, he flexed his fingers until she took it. He pulled her up off her chair and said, “Alright, Harvelle. Show me what you’ve got.”

He was surprisingly capable on the dance floor, just as Sam had been. A little fumbling and uncertain, and he dropped her on her ass at one point when he tried to dip her, but it was _fun_. A break from the norm. Without a hunt or some impending form of doom hanging over their heads, they were able to just be themselves. Let loose and enjoy the company of one another.

Sam joined them at one point. Cut in and lifted her right off her feet. It took her by surprise. The air escaped her lungs and when he set her back down she felt a little dizzy. Before she could catch her breath however, Dean grabbed hold of her again. Held her close and swayed almost comically with the music. She laughed into the crook of his neck. Inhaled the scent of his skin, of his clothing. 

He smelled like Sam. 

Or Sam smelled like him. 

It stirred something within her. The thought of how close they were. Her mind drifted to how they looked at each other. How they seemed to communicate without words.

Sam came up behind her. Placed his hands on her hips while Dean remained in front of her. Any train of thought was lost. Her eyes fluttered closed and she focused on the weight of their bodies pressed against her.

When they took a break, they headed for the bar. Shots were in order, and they got a round of fireball whiskeys. The cinnamon tickled her nose and packed a punch on the way down. She could hold her own when it came to liquor, but it still caught her off guard. She coughed a little and Sam pulled her close. 

"OK?" He asked, patting her on the back. She nodded and he settled his hand on the small of her back. On her left, Dean shifted closer. Laid a hand on her thigh and squeezed a little.

“We were thinking,” He said quietly. Kept his voice low, barely audible above the roar of chatter and music. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“It’s barely midnight,” She said. Even glanced at the clock, which read _12:08_. Still early and things were just getting interesting. She didn’t want to lose them just yet. Didn’t want to lose… whatever was happening between them. She leaned back into Sam’s body and laid a hand on top of Dean’s hand.

“Right,” He said. Laughed a little and glanced up at Sam before looking back at her. “We were thinking we should call it a night. We, as in the three of us.” He gestured between them with his free hand and her eyes widened a notch.

“Oh,” She said, and then the significance of what he was saying set in. She quickly followed it with a more subdued, “Oh.” 

“What’a you think?” Sam’s voice was low in her ear. He trailed his hand a little lower down her back. Cupped her ass briefly and her breath caught in her chest. The thought was exhilarating. Or terrifying. She wasn’t sure. Between the shots and drinks, everything was a little fuzzy. But she had wanted to get laid, and while she knew Dean was always a good time she’d be lying if she hadn’t wondered what Sam had to offer.

She swallowed thickly and nodded her head. “Yeah,” She said, and Dean gave Sam one more look. A small, knowing smile that they shared before helping her off the stool and leading her out of the bar.

 

::

 

Dean slept on his stomach. One hand was hiked up beneath the pillow, clutching at the weapon that wasn’t there, while the other draped her body. It stretched far enough that his fingertips grazed Sam’s hip. The younger brother laid on her right, snoring softly. The two slept similarly. Fretfully, with brows knit. Whatever troubles lurked within their minds were weighing heavily on them. The night may have been a break from the norm, but she knew they could never fully step outside themselves. Could never fully let go.

It made her a little sad. For them, that is. They gave everything they had to the world and wound up miserable.

Absently, she ran a hand down Sam's thigh. Coarse hair tickled her palm and she bit her lower lip. In her mind, she replayed the way he had held her last night. How he could be so rough while still maintaining control. The memory sent a shiver down her spine.

Next to her, Dean snorted in his sleep. Light was just beginning to fight its way through the crack in the curtains. She guessed that it must be shortly after five. Dean sniffed a few times and then opened his eyes. “Hey,” He mumbled, meeting her eye. “Watching me sleep?”

“Maybe,” She shrugged.

“Creepy,” He muttered, but it was with a smile. He turned over to look at the clock. A red _5:18_ glowed back at him and then he rolled out of bed. He was still naked. She stared opened at his ass, and he glanced back at her. Winked and then dipped down to grab his boxers. 

He walked around to Sam’s side of the bed. Smacked his chest and said, “Rise and shine, Sammy. Time for breakfast.”

Sam groaned. Grumbled a hoarse _jerk_ and she laughed, enjoying their morning antics.

Sitting up, she inched over to the side of the mattress. Slid off onto the floor and could feel Dean’s eyes on her. Checking her out. She began to collect her clothing and let him watch. Wiggled her ass a little and then tossed a smile back in his direction. Over her shoulder, she saw Sam get out of bed. He stretched. Pressed his hands against his lower back and arched his spine. The long, firm lines of his body glowed in the morning light and Dean only tore his eyes from her to wantonly look in Sam’s direction. Time seemed to still and only when he was finished did it start back up.

Silently, everyone began to dress. Dean pulled on a pair of ripped jeans and gave a t-shirt from his duffle a sniff before he tugged it over his head. She slipped her panties back on. Pulled her dress over her head and futilely tried to smooth a few of the wrinkles from it. 

“I want pancakes,” She heard Dean say.

“I could go for pancakes,” Sam replied. The two talked quietly as they finished dressing. She caught bits and pieces, fragments of where they might be headed next and it was the first time in twenty-four hours that she felt like an outsider. Like she didn't belong. She dragged her hand through her hair a few times. Combed the knots out and then cleared her throat.

“Guess I’ll be going, then,” She said. Lifted her hand in an awkward, half-wave and this was why she didn’t like to spend the night anywhere. She never knew what to do with herself, but any tension was eased by Sam asking, “Not getting breakfast with us?” As if it had been expected.

“Think I might be a little overdressed,” She said, gesturing down at her outfit.

“You look fine,” Dean commented. Gave her a quick once-over and Sam nodded in agreement.

“Totally.”

Dean grabbed the keys from the dresser and started toward the door. Sam followed and she remained in place a moment longer before hurrying after them. Followed them out of the motel room and across the parking lot. Her heels clicked against the pavement and she muttered a quiet, “People are going to talk,” Because the three of them looked completely wrecked. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.

Coming to a stop by the Mustang, Dean leaned into it. Rested his forearms on the roof and smiled at her. “Let ‘em,” He said. At his side, Sam smiled as well and she could herself beginning to grin. A laugh bubbled up in her chest and she shook her head.

“Alright, then.”

And that was that.

She wasn't kidding herself. She knew they would be gone by afternoon and that she would be back with her own crew by the end of the week. Saving people, hunting things, she knew the drill. But the future? Who knew. Their paths would cross sooner or later.

They always did.


End file.
